


Canvas Dreams

by showbooth



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, M/M, No Spoilers, One Shot, Stand Alone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-21 06:00:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30017214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/showbooth/pseuds/showbooth
Summary: John once stumbled upon a bathing Arthur.The memory is only topped when Arthur pays him a visit one night.
Relationships: John Marston/Arthur Morgan
Comments: 4
Kudos: 33





	Canvas Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little one shot as I steadily procrastinate on my other work!  
> Enjoy.

Nothing beat having your own tent, John learned that the first night he had his own bit of canvas.   
Sure beat sleeping on wooden pallets, and damn sure beat out sleeping on the hard dirt. 

It was nice to have a little something to himself, even if it was just some flimsy walls.

He'd finally had enough coin in hand to buy himself one, thanks in part to selling a few 'found' items to the right buyer- some pockmarked old seahand in Van Horn Arthur told him about.   
And while John would eat his tent before thanking Arthur for the tip, he was happy for the slice of privacy the money bought.

John's proud grin up at the peaked roof turned to a scowl at the thought of Arthur.   
"Fucking Arthur." he muttered outloud.  
Him having ties to the new tent almost ruined it for John.

Lately the man had nothing but insults and complaints to throw John's way.   
Sure they butted heads in the past, but these days Arthur had become a torn in John's side. Every single time the man bothered to speak it was something negative. 

"Who taught you how to swing an axe?" Arthur would jeer anytime John was splitting wood. 

He'd pluck the heavy axe out of John's hands like it was a toothpick, roll his sleeves up over his bulging arms, and swing in a perfect arch down to split a log neatly in half. "Like that. Clean and sharp."

John would stand cross armed and fuming, watching as Arthur made quick work of his morning chores.  
In no time logs littered the ground before them, the sweet scent of oak and Arthur's sweat in the air.  
"Now," Arthur said, wiping his damp forehead off on his bare forearm. "Stack these right."

He'd wander away, off to play dominos with Hosea or to go wrestle a grizzly bear or do whatever it was the man did. 

And John would be left feeling like a boy scolded.

Everyone loved the bastard, that was for certain. He had them all wrapped around his meaty finger, all convinced he was something to be celebrated.  
But of course Arthur was too humble for all the fanfare he received, all shrugs and blushes.   
"It's no problem, don't mention it." He'd say in that slow drawl of his.

The girls in the camp ogled him shamelessly, nearly tripping over themselves to serve the lumphead whenever he sat down to supper.  
They all went gaga over Arthur, something John could understand in part, on a purely superficial scale of course.

There was no doubt the man was attractive. All sun tanned skin and hard muscles, the big barrel chested fool. Those plaid shirts he wore seemed to be painted on, the way his chest and arms strained against the fabric.

And those legs looked hard and solid as tree trunks, strutting around the camp with his stupid narrow hips always adorned with that jingling gun belt. 

But it was the eyes that got to John the most. Those clear blue eyes, bright and spotless as the sky in Spring.   
He loved to see Arthur laugh, how the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes creased with joy.   
Lately John avoided looking into those blue eyes, he couldn't stand to see what Arthur had to throw his way.

John closed his own eyes, let his mind drift to one of his favorite, secret memories. 

It was last Summer, dusk had come and the air was still thick and nearly shimmering with heat.  
He'd been in and out of camp all day, playing errand boy for Grimshaw and Hosea both. 

It was all 'Grab this from the store! Go find me some huckleberries to make wine!'.   
He felt like a teenager again, running around to do everyone bidding. 

By the time John had Grimshaw's set of fake pearl buttons and Hosea's berries, he had a film of sweat and grit over him.  
He was gonna ignore it and wash up in the morning, but of course a fuss was made and he was sent to the creek for a proper bath. 

Always treated like a child, from everyone in the camp.

Soap and a change of clothes in hand, John stomped through the woods to the little stream. He just knew he was about to step on a pissed off snake or some other angry creature and was grumbling to himself about it all.

What he wasn't expecting to find was a bareass naked Arthur, scrubbing away in the water.

In true sneaky little shit form, John immediately crouched behind the closest bush he could find instead of announcing his presence.   
Seeing Arthur naked and completely exposed was an opportunity John couldn't miss.

Heart pounding and mouth dry, he held his breath and watched for any sign Arthur might have heard him.

He was sure Arthur paused and surveyed the treeline, but luckily for John, he continued his bath without concern. No doubt Arthur would give him more than a smartass comment if he caught John gawking. 

John peeked through leaves and watched as Arthur stuck his head under water to wet his hair.   
He broke the water's surface with a grunt, sprays of water flying across the creek. His chestnut brown hair now plastered to his skull, water dripping off to run down his chest, glittering like diamonds in the flickering sunlight.

John immediately thought of the old sailor's talk of sirens, something unworldly and almost worth getting devoured over. 

In his broad hands, Arthur worked the bar of soap up into a lather, thick white sudsy bubbles he rubbed into his hair.

Of course Arthur had to have store bought soap, John thought idly, not the lumpy brown cakesoap the girls made at camp. Spoiled bastard.

He didn't spare the soap much more thought, as Arthur washed the suds out his hair, leaving a gleaming curtain of brown as a result.

John wanted nothing more than to run his fingers through Arthur's silken hair and clutch a fist full as he smashed his lips against Arthur's shocked ones.   
He wanted to lick and bite and stain his clean neck, wanted to claw his name right into Arthur's shoulders. 

He pressed the palm of his hand against his rock hard dick and cursed the man.

Back in the creek, Arthur gave his body a rub down with the soap as he whistled to himself.   
With long, leisurely strokes he cleaned his chest and arms, bending at the waist to clean parts hidden in the creek. 

John bit his lip to keep from making a noise, his hand rubbing a bit harder on his dick.   
He knew he was a pervert, a dirty rotten peeping Tom, but he didn't care.   
Arthur was naked and touching his dick, not a care in the world. 

Unfortunately Arthur didn't do anything besides clean himself, John wasn't sure he'd survive if Arthur ended up doing more anyway. 

The older man washed the soap off and left the creek's waters. John was given a perfect view of his pert ass and the little dimples above the cheeks, which was a surprise that almost sent John over the edge. 

Arthur toweled off and dressed, sadly with his back still to John. He registered Arthur's ass to the very top of his memory though.   
The curve, the dimples that looked like a perfect fit for his thumbs,   
John wanted to learn to draw immediately.

After slapping on his hat, Arthur left out, trudging through trees and bushes a ways away from John.   
John still held his breath and crouched down low, hoping Arthur didn't spot him out the corner of his eye. 

Once the coast was clear, John gave himself up to shame and unbuttoned his pants to take his dick in his hands.   
There in his hiding spot, John jerked off harder and quicker than ever before, painting the dirt and his hands with ribbons of white.

Seeing Arthur naked and wet was going to be fodder for him for a long time. 

Back in his tent, John pumped at himself. Even though months had passed since seeing Arthur naked, the memory had become well branded in John's mind.

He let his thoughts run wild, imagining Arthur pushing him against a boulder right there in the creek. His wet chest pressed against John, all hard and unyielding as Arthur kissed him breathless. 

John wouldn't bother pretending to fight off Arthur. Why would he? They both would be aching for it, ready to nearly drown each other with passion, instead of rage for once.

He could nearly feel the scruff of Arthur's beard against his neck as Arthur drifted lower until that sarcastic, shit-talking mouth was wrapped around John's dick.   
Kneeling in the shallow stream, uncaring of rocks in his knees or any people hiding in the trees, he'd suck John.

John hissed out a curse and quickened his pace. In his fantasies, Arthur didn't talk, but he did wonder how vocal the man would be.  
Would he grunt and moan around John's dick, finally gagged and quiet?

Those blue eyes bright and hot with desire, staring up at John as he was throat fucked right there in the river.

John tensed and came, not as silently as he wanted, but in those few white hot seconds he didn't care. His fantasy-self saw fit to pull out of Arthur's mouth and finish right along those ridged cheekbones. 

As his high faded and his heartbeat settled, John wiped his sticky hands on his bandana and returned to staring up at the tent. 

He ebbed to sleep, sated and relaxed, mind on nothing but Arthur.

-

Camp life went on, as it does. 

John was excited and ready to go halves on a stagecoach robbery Bill told him about. 

A sure thing, Bill promised. 

The robbery went down, dead of night as it passed through the middle of nowhere.   
More dangerous, but less of an audience so John didn't mind the late hour. 

Wasn't too easy shooting in the dark, but they got it down and the cash secured.

"A few kills for a few bills." Bill joked as they came back to their camp. He slapped John on his back good-naturedly. "You did good tonight."

John scoffed, but the compliment did make him feel good. He knew he had to be attention starved if a passing remark from Bill made him smile.

He was still smiling when he ducked into his tent to wash up before he hit the sack.   
What he wasn't expecting was Arthur to slide into his tent behind him like it was no big deal. 

The man had obviously been waiting for him somewhere out in the darkness.   
A thrill ran through John but he shoved it down and threw a glare at Arthur instead.

John waited a beat for some announcement or explanation. When it didn't come he continued on to washing up with the pitcher of water left there by Grimshaw, more than likely.

He took his pistol out of his hostler and left it on his bedside crate, unbuckling his gun belt and letting it drop to the grassy floor.   
Free of his weapon, John took off his jacket and vest and tossed the clothing aside.

Feeling nearly naked already, he placed his hat down upon his pillow. With Arthur's eyes burning a hole through his thin shirt, John wet the clean rag that sat with the water and quickly swiped at his neck.

"You're just gettin' your hair all wet." Arthur commented calmly.

John jumped at the sudden break in the silence, annoyed at himself more than Arthur's comment.  
He didn't acknowledge Arthur all the same, keeping his back to the man. 

When Arthur talked again it was nearly in his ear, his voice low as a purr as he appeared at John's side.  
"Let me help you out here."

Arthur plucked the wet rag out of John's fist, and with his other hand carefully raised John's curtain of dark hair off his neck. 

John shivered at the brush of Arthur's fingers, his touch gentle and soft as a whisper.

"Too cold?" Arthur asked quietly. 

John shook his head no, not trusting his voice just yet.   
Arthur continued, keeping John's hair clasped in his hand even when he moved to wiping John's throat.

He knew Arthur must have taken notice of the way his pulse was hammering away in his veins. Or how his Adam's apple bobbed with every dry swallow.   
But Arthur kept stroking, leaving dewy skin and goosebumps in his wake. 

One handedly, he rinsed the rag out and handed it off to John. "Wash your face."

John didn't question the demand, it was all so odd and out of the norm he felt like a puppet on a string. He didn't want to break whatever was happening by telling Arthur to go fuck himself, as he would have.

Arthur let John's hair fall back into his clean neck, though he trailed his hand down to rest at the small of John's back. 

Behind the cover of the rag, John felt his cheeks warm. He relished in the touch for a second longer before putting aside the cloth.  
"Just what are you doing Arthur?"

A part of him didn't want an answer, didn't want to hear a snide remark or whatever gag Arthur was pulling. The man wasn't one to be cruel, but John knew this had to be a joke someone was playing on him.

He turned to face Arthur, wanting to see the laugher or eye roll head on. 

It was a bad idea though. The second John saw those blue eyes, bright as bluebonnets even in the dim tent, he knew it would hurt. Arthur approaching John, seeking him out, touching him so sweetly, was going to sting like a bitch any second now. 

Arthur didn't back away. He swept his hand down to John's hip, his touch light, barely a weight at his side.

"Well," Arthur began, his deep voice washing over John. "I figured you've seen me bathe, I should at least see you wash up."

Immediately John went into denial mode, complete with sputtering curses and avoiding those baby blues. He felt blood rush to his face and the prickling heat of shame and embarrassment march down his spine.   
"Stop lyin' Arthur!"

Arthur squeezed John's hip and caught his chin with his free hand. He smiled down at John, just a bit teasingly and all too cocky still. "Do I look mad? Don't deny it now."

His smile stretched, a glimpse of his white teeth brilliant in the dark. "Look at you, you're blushin' like a girl."   
Arthur swiped his fat thumb across John's stained cheeks, rubbing in the proof.

John scowled and slapped away Arthur's hand. "I ain't no girl."   
Embarrassed to his core, John stepped away from Arthur, intent to leave his own tent and nurse his wounded pride elsewhere.

With his outlaw reflexes always at the ready, Arthur snatched John's elbow and yanked him back close. "I know you ain't no woman."

They were so close now, breath mingling and chest touching. Could Arthur feel his heart, wild and racing like a scared rabbit?   
Arthur glanced down at John's parted lips, the only warning John had before he crashed their lips together.

Arthur kissed hard,with a purpose.  
John figured with his short circuiting brain that he didn't kiss women like this. 

His full lips parted, his tongue taking advantage of John's gasp to fully invade John's mouth with the taste of tobacco and traces of whiskey.  
The scratch of his beard was sinful, the most erotic feeling John ever had experienced.   
He couldn't stop himself from running his fingers through the scruff.

Arthur made a noise, something crossed between a moan and a growl that John wanted to hear over and over again. 

He broke away from John's mouth,sliding open mouth kisses, licks and nips along his neck.   
"Get on the bed." Arthur whispered into John's ear.

John was caught between a lot of feelings, but being a male in the prime of his life, horniness took first billing.   
He took the few steps to his bed on shaky legs and sat on the very edge of the bed to watch Arthur.

"Why you look so nervous?" Arthur asked with a cheeky grin. He closed the gap between them,standing before John. "You ain't ever been with a man before, have you."

John scoffed and leaned back on his elbows to better look up at Arthur. "What do you think, you're my first?"  
He had to laugh when the cocky smile on Arthur's face was replaced with one of confusion.

"You ain't my first, Arthur. I've been with men before." John said slowly, spelling it out for the man.  
He sort of felt sorry for him, obviously he'd ruined what ever pure and innocent thoughts Arthur had for John. 

Arthur scowled and stood a little straighter, crossing his arms over his chest. "Who? Anyone in camp?"

Cringing, John hooted with laughter all the same. "Oh yeah, I just can't keep my hands off Pearson."

Arthur didn't budge, just stood over John with a frown firmly in place. "Anyone I know?"

"Jesus Arthur, no! It was just random men. Why do you even care?" John snapped, already tired of Arthur's investigation.

Teasing was one thing, but a lecture was definitely killing his mood.  
If he'd known this was how Arthur started sex, John would have stuck to his fantasies.   
Should have figured Arthur would be an ass before, during, and probably after sex too.

Arthur rubbed his neck, a sure sign the man was called out and embarrassed. His gaze roamed the room, avoiding looking back at John. 

"You should be more careful, that's all." Arthur said at last, the awkward pause too much for him to handle. "That's dangerous business, going off and having...relations with strange men."

John snickered and cut his eyes at Arthur. "Relations? Ok Hosea, dutifully noted, you can leave now."

The sly grin appeared back on his face as Arthur plucked his hat off. "Oh no. I ain't done quite yet. I wanna hear more about you peeping in on me."

He put down his hat next to John's on the crate and nudged John's legs open with his knee. Standing back between his sprawled open legs, Arthur towered above John and seemed far too confident and ego-heavy yet again.

Determined not to be a blushing maiden again, John scowled up at Arthur. "Ok, I watched you. So what?"

The blunt admission made Arthur's devilish smile grow.   
He looked a sight. His face was flushed under his whiskered cheeks, and the pupils of Arthur's bright eyes were blown out with desire.  
John felt exposed and trapped under his gaze, but the intensity only made him more hard. 

John wondered just how undone Arthur could get. Could, one day, Arthur be pinned to a bed by nothing but John's desires and words?  
His dick pulsed at the thought. One day for sure.

Arthur slid his hand up John's leg, gripping the side thigh muscle tightly.   
"So did you like what you saw?" He asked, deep voice a rumble that John felt more than heard. 

Every inch of John's body was at attention, waiting and begging for Arthur's touch. He arched a fraction, offering more of himself to Arthur. To gaze down on him like his dinner, to mercifully scoot his hand over into John's tented crotch.

"Yeah." John admitted easily, throat dry. Gone was the idea of trying to lie and get some sort of upper hand. They both knew he was about ready to beg for any touch from Arthur.

Arthur hummed in response, clearly pleased. He covered John's denim covered erection with his heavy hand, massaging and kneading John's dick firmly. "What did you imagine me doing to you?"

With a flick of his fingers, Arthur unbuttoned John's jeans and slipped his hand inside. Unembarrassed of how needy he looked, John arched into Arthur's palm with a hiss. 

"Kinda like this I guess." John said with a breathless laugh. "Except you're gaggin' on my dick by now."

Arthur smiled down at John. "Well let's see if you got anything worth gaggin' on then."  
He tugged down John's jeans and underwear both, immediately taking John's freed dick in his hand.   
"Not bad." Arthur said in approval. "Not bad at all."

He gave John's dick a firm handed stroke, running his thumb across the wet slit.  
They locked eyes and John knew what was about to happen.   
He saw it in the way Arthur licked his lips, felt it in the way his hold around John's dick tightened.

The second Arthur dropped to his knees, it was everything John had fantasized about.   
Without warning and, blissfully without comment, Arthur slid his mouth down onto John's dick. 

John groaned, deep and guttural and with every part of him screaming _finally!_

Having Arthur suck him with his taunting mouth was almost unworldly.  
All of his daydreaming couldn't compare to the feel of Arthur's tongue tracing his cock, or the puff of warm breath against his thigh when Arthur pulled back for a moment.

John wanted to float out of his body just to watch, to be absolutely certain this was happening.  
Maybe he fell and hurt his head, because surely Arthur wasn't kneeling in the dirt to give him the best damn blow job of his life?

Instead of turning into a spirit, John grounded himself by unclenching his hands and taking fistfuls of Arthur's disheveled hair. 

Arthur grunted and tilted his head back, his blue eyes barely open more than a slit. Just the head of John's dick, all blushed and glistening sat resting on Arthur's lips. 

Watching John, Arthur parted his lips to slither his tongue out to lick and taste, as if to really study and savor John's cock.  
Like a snake tasting the air, searching for its prey.  
He bobbed his head slowly, dick slipping between his lips like satin. 

It was the dirtiest spectacle John ever had the pleasure of seeing, even better the pleasure of being on the receiving end.  
He pushed forward, letting Arthur take more of himself between those lips.

He rocked his hips, his dick thrusting into the warm heat of Arthur's mouth. Arthur's nostrils flared as he took every inch of what John gave. 

"God fuckin' damnit Arthur!" John cursed in appreciation. He cupped Arthur's cheek and shivered at the feeling of his dick bulging and stretching Arthur's mouth. "You're so fucking good." He praised in a harsh whisper. 

Arthur's eyes fluttered shut and he moaned around John's cock in response.

That did it for John. He slipped over the edge and came with a sigh of half-curses, spilling messily across Arthur's swollen lips and chin.   
It wasn't quite the spray across his face John dreamed about, but seeing Arthur lick his come off his lips made him dizzy. 

With unsteady hands, John let loose his hold on Arthur's hair and face "C'mere up by me."

Arthur did as told, sitting down sideways on the tiny cot to face John.   
"So, ah. Was that, ok?" He asked, all at once shy.

John bit his cheek to stop the grin and hoot of laughter that bubbled up. How Arthur could second guess his skills when he was wiping John's come from his cheeks was almost quaint.

"Fuck yeah, that was way better than just ok!'

They laughed,the awkwardness gone until John noticed Arthur readjusting himself through his jeans. He immediately felt a stab of guilt for not getting him off.

"Let me help you take care of that." John said, already moving to unbutton Arthur's jeans. 

Arthur let him, but with a warning. "I'm too wired up for much, you touch me and I'm liable to explode."  
He scooted his pants down just low enough to take his dick out and in hand.

John watched as Arthur stroked himself. His dick wasn't a massive, monster to behold, but thick and heavy looking.   
John knew it definitely would leave an impression.   
He knew he would need to touch, feel, taste it again and again.

"You ever been watched before?" John asked, transfixed.

Arthur's rhythm skipped, his breathing becoming faster. "Doing this? Not that I know of."

John scooted closer, nearly crawling into Arthur's lap. "Do you like it?"   
He covered Arthur's hand with his own, gripping and guiding along. 

Arthur nodded his approval, a quick jerk of his head as he gnawed at his lip. John felt his grip tighten and his legs spread wider.

"I can't wait to see you come." John whispered. He nudged Arthur's hand aside and took over, wrapping his own calloused palm against the smooth skin of Arthur's dick.

Arthur's eyes widened, the pale blue John loved so much now dark as dusk, his pupils blown out with want.   
"Shit John!" 

Hearing Arthur curse his name was a lot more enjoyable this way, John learned.  
Acting on impulse, he kissed Arthur. A brush against the lips just once, almost innocent considering their current situation.

Arthur kissed back immediately, open mouth and gasping. Messy and needy in his hurry for release, Arthur kissed any part of John's face his lips touched.

John flicked his wrist, working the wet head of Arthur's dick until he tensed and cursed along John's cheek, spilling hotly onto John's hand.

Even though John would have liked to have watched Arthur's face while he came, he certainly wasn't going to complain.   
He pulled back, wiping his stained hand on Arthur's jeans for good measure.

Arthur gave a tired chuckle as he straightened himself up, tucking away his dick back into his stained pants.   
"You just want me to take another bath so you can peep again."

"Maybe so." John shrugged. "Maybe next time I'll join you."

Arthur stood and dropped his hat back onto his head. "I'll keep an eye out for you."

With a wink, Arthur left John's tent, whistling happily as he went upon his way. 

John laid down in his cot and smiled up at the canvas once again.   
For once in his life he was looking forward to wading into a river.


End file.
